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“That little cliap knows how to play, doesn't he?” (Page 7.) 


Beppino 


By ./ 

FELICIA BUTTZ CLARK 



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THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two CoHttt Received 

OCT. 8 1901 

COPVHIGHT ENTRY 

CLASS XXo. No, 

/85T7c 

COPY B. 


Copyright by 
EATON & MAINS, 
1901. 



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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE. 

A July Night 5 

CHAPTER II. 

Beppino’s First Good Time 16 

CHAPTER III. 

“ Where is My Violin ?” ' 27 

CHAPTER IV. 

Poor Little Beppino! 39 

CHAPTER V. 

The Cave in the Hillside 50 

CHAPTER VI. 

Joy in the Morning 59 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


“ That little chap knows how to play, doesn’t 

he? ” Frontispiece. 

FACING 

PAGE 

“ How beautiful it is ! ” Beppino said 16 

“ He ran swiftly ” 32 

“ Don’t go up,” she said in a whisper 48 

“ Don’t you dare to come back ! ” she cried 54 


He stooped and drew out a water-soaked violin 


58 


Beppino 


CHAPTER I. 

A JULY NIGHT. 

I T was so hot that night ! Everybody in Rome 
* was out on the street trying to catch a whiff 
of the sea breeze which came in from the Medi- 
terranean. The lights on the Via Nazonale — 
National Street — glittered and twinkled. In 
front of the cafes, out on the sidewalk, so close 
to the road that people could not find room to 
go by, were many little tables, surrounded by 
ladies and gentlemen. Nearly all of the people 
were eating ice cream, not in big platefuls, as 
one sees it at home, but in small portions heaped 
up in pretty glasses. The ladies fanned them- 
selves, and the children laughed, and everyone 
talked as fast as they could, in soft Italian, 
which sounds as though it were all “Os” and 
“ Ahs.” 


6 


BEPPINO. 


It was eleven o’clock, and the air was steadily 
growing cooler. Up the street came a man, 
and walking by his side was a boy, perhaps ten 
years of age. He was a little, delicate fellow, 
but his face looked old, perhaps because he had 
not had very much fun in his short life. 

‘ ‘ Beppino, ” said the man who was with the 
child, “wake up! There’s no use your trying 
any dodges on me. Sleepy or not sleepy, you 
must play at this caf6. There are crowds of 
people out to-night — rich ones, too. Do you 
hear? ” He gave Beppino a little shake. 

“I hear,” said the child, in a weary voice. 
“ But, O Giovanni, I’m so tired ! ” 

They were now almost in front of the cafe, 
and the man could not say any more for fear of 
being overheard, so he only shook his finger at 
the boy, in a way peculiar to the Italians, and 
which promised severe punishment if his orders 
were not obeyed. 

The lad took from under his arm a violin, 
and, carefully tuning it, he commenced to play 
a gay melody, to the accompaniment of the 
’cello which Giovanni carried. It sounded as if 
the wind were blowing in the trees and the 
birds were singing merrily. The people sitting 


A JULY NIGHT. 7 

at the tables turned to look at the little musi- 
cian, and the man, Giovanni, chuckled over the 
thought of how many soldi — pennies — he would 
receive. 

At a table quite near the boy sat two men. 
One, evidently the father, was gray-haired, but 
had a very kindly face. The other was a lad of 
about sixteen, with fair hair and beautiful blue 
eyes. They were Englishmen. 

“ That little chap knows how to play, doesn’t 
he, father? ” said the boy, whose name was 
Robert Carroll. “ But do look at him! He is 
so sleepy that he can scarcely keep his eyes 
open.” 

The father smiled as he looked at the child. 
His bow was moving over the strings as though 
he were so familiar with the tune that he could 
play it even in his sleep, and over the violin his 
head was nodding. His eyes were closed, and 
he swayed back and forth. 

“ Poor little chap ! ” said Mr. Carroll. “ He 
is tired out.” 

At that moment Giovanni’s eyes caught sight 
of Beppino. With a rough shake he woke him 
so suddenly that a bewildered look on the child’s 
face went to Mr. Carroll’s heart. 


8 


BEPPINO. 


“ Poor little chap! ” repeated the gentleman, 
and then beckoned to Giovanni. 

“ Is he your son ? ” he asked, as the Italian ran 
quickly to him, expecting some money. 

“ No, signore, he is only Beppino. I do not 
know his other name. Eight years ago my 
wife found him wandering about the streets of 
Rome. He could not tell anything about him- 
self, except that his name was Beppino.” 

“ And did you not try to find his parents? ” 

“Yes, sir. That is, we tried a little, but it 
was no use. He was dressed in very common 
clothes, and had nothing about him to identify 
him. Besides,” Giovanni showed his white 
teeth, ‘ * we really liked the child, and wanted 
to keep him.” 

‘ ‘ That is to say, you found out his unusual 
talent for music and made money off him,” said 
the gentleman, sharply. 

“Just as the signore wishes,” replied Gio- 
vanni, shrugging his shoulders and smiling. It 
made little difference to him what the English 
gentleman thought, anyway. They were all 
queer, these English. However, it would be a 
very good thing if the stranger should take a 
fancy to little Beppino. These English were 


A JULY NIGHT. 9 

all very rich. "He has a wonderful gift for 
music/* he continued. "If I were not so 
poor, I would get him a teacher. But, 
alas!’* he rolled up his eyes, "I have no 
money. And I love the boy as if he were 
my own/* 

" Humph !” muttered Mr. Carroll. He did 
not like the man’s looks nor his words. 

Robert had been eagerly listening to the con- 
versation, and now he broke in, " Do you 
mean to say that the child has never had any 
lessons?” 

"Except those which I, myself, have given 
him he has had none, signorino. Almost all 
that he plays he composes himself.” 

" Wonderful !” and Robert’s thoughts flew 
regretfully back to his own experience. He 
was trying hard to learn to play the violin. He 
had the best teacher in Rome, and a violin 
which had cost a large sum of money; yet he 
could only play a few simple tunes, while this 
child, on his cheap instrument, brought out the 
music of a genius. "Can’t we have him come 
to see us and play for us to-morrow? ” he whis- 
pered to his father. * ‘ I am sure it would amuse 


mamma. 


10 


BEPPINO. 


Mr. Carroll nodded, and they both watched 
the boy. 

Beppino had wakened up at last, and having 
finished his list of pieces, was passing from table 
to table, collecting on a small metal plate the 
coins which were given to him. He came last 
to the table where Mr. Carroll and his son were 
sitting, near which Giovanni still stood. Mr. 
Carroll dropped a silver franc into the plate, 
and Giovanni’s sharp eyes glittered. Here was 
truly luck! Now if they would only take a 
fancy to Beppino ! It was a very sweet, patient 
face which the child turned up to Mr. Carroll. 
It bore upon it the marks of hard treatment, 
little to eat, and some signs of physical suffer- 
ing. The eyes were large and of a soft brown. 
His hair was rather long and curly, and his 
cheeks were white and thin. 

Mr. Carroll placed his hand on the boy’s 
head so gently that Beppino looked up in 
wonder, and then his eyes filled with tears. 
People never touched him in that kind of 
way. 

“ Will you come and see us to-morrow and 
bring your violin, Beppino? My boy, there, 
plays on the violin, too — ” 


A JULY NIGHT. 


11 


“But not as you do,” interrupted Robert, 
full of boyish enthusiasm. 

His father smiled. “We think he plays 
pretty well, ” he continued. “Will you come ? ” 

Beppino lifted his eyes to his master. Gio- 
vanni nodded. 

“ Yes, signore,” the boy replied. 

“Very well.” Mr. Carroll rose. 

“Mayn’t he have a glass of * bibite? ’ ” asked 
Robert. 

“That’s a good idea! Waiter, bring two 
glasses of bibite, with ice,” and Mr. Carroll 
motioned the surprised Italian into a chair. 
Giovanni had received pennies before, and even 
an occasional franc, but never had anyone 
asked him to sit down at a table in a cafd where 
rich people were. 

“A thousand thanks,” he said, touching his 
soft hat and awkwardly seating himself, telling 
Beppino to do the same. But he muttered 
under his breath : 

‘ 4 The English are certainly very queer 
indeed !” 

Ah! how good that “bibite” was on that 
stifling night ! The raspberry syrup and water 
were so spicy and sweet, and the ice made it so 


12 


BEPPINO. 


deliciously cold. Beppino was wide enough 
awake now and sipped away at the rosy liquid, 
wishing that it might last forever. But no 
matter how slowly he drank it, it would grow 
less, and it was with a sigh that he drained the 
last drop and carefully bestowed the last piece 
of ice in his mouth. 

“ Was it good?” asked Robert, who had 
watched the boy's enjoyment with great 
delight. 

Beppino gave a short nod, and a smile spread 
over his little white face. 

“ Can’t you thank the gentlemen? ” said Gio- 
vanni, looking at him threateningly. 

“ Thank you, sir,” the child replied, timidly, 
and then, shrinking back, as though he 
expected a blow, he went out into the street. 

“Here is my card,” said Mr. Carroll to Gio- 
vanni. “ The boy had better come about four 
o’clock to-morrow.” 

He turned to go away, but Giovanni followed. 
“The gentleman will, of course, not forget to 
make me some payment,” he said, with a grin. 

‘ ‘ I shall lose a great deal in the hour which 
Beppino spends with him.” 

“ I will see that you lose nothing.” 


A JULY NIGHT. 13 

Giovanni lifted his old hat in token of much 
respect, and, taking Beppino’s hand, went away 
with him. The streets were not so full of peo- 
ple now, for it was midnight. “ Hurry up, 
there,” exclaimed Giovanni, roughly; “ we have 
a long way to go. It’s only rich people that 
can afford to live in these fine houses in the 
city.” 

Beppino tried hard to keep up with the long 
steps of his master, but he was now once more 
very sleepy, and, in spite of himself, he dragged 
behind. Fortunately, Giovanni was so much 
engaged in thinking about the Englishman, and 
wondering how much money he could manage 
to get out of him, that he did not notice it. 
Out through the dark streets, along the broad 
road they went, far on to the city gate. Off on 
the right rose a beautiful church. On the top 
of it there were marble statues, in the center of 
which was a figure of the Lord Jesus Christ, 
with his hand outstretched, as if blessing these 
two wanderers. Inside the church there were 
altars and images and great pictures, and here 
the mother of Jesus was bowed down] to and 
worshiped. Giovanni and Beppino paid no 
heed to the church, which at midnight stood so 


14 


BEPPINO. 


still, and passed out under an old gateway into 
the country. 

Another five minutes* walk brought them to a 
row of houses, once intended to be fine dwell- 
ings. Unfortunately, there was no more 
money, so they were left half done, with only 
the outside walls and the floors and window 
frames. Many poor families lived in these 
half-built houses without paying any rent. 

Giovanni led the sleepy boy into a low room 
on the ground floor of one of these buildings. 
Then he struck him with his big hand. “ Lie 
there now and sleep ! ” he said. 

The boy half-stunned by the blow on his 
head, rolled himself into a little ball against the 
wall, with no bed under him, and no covering 
over him, and was soon unconscious. 

On a warm night these houses, roofless and 
windowless, were cool and comfortable ; it was 
on the winter nights, when a bitter wind blew 
down from the mountains, that the poor of 
Rome suffered great misery. 

A slovenly woman lifted herself from a cor- 
ner of the room. “ Is it you, Giovanni? ” 

“ Yes, Assunta, and I tell you, we’re in luck. 
I took in three francs to-night, and to-morrow 


A JULY NIGHT. 15 

Beppino is to go to a rich Englishman to play 
for him, and he's to pay me well." 

“ Rodolfo shall go, too," responded the wom- 
an, quickly. “ Maybe the Englishman might 
adopt him." 

“ Just as you please," said Giovanni, and in 
a few moments all were sleeping. 


16 


BEPPINO. 


CHAPTER IL 

BEPPINO’S FIRST GOOD TIME. 

HE bright June sun shone in through the 



* open window frames of the old house out- 
side the gates of Rome. It was a desolate 
place, indeed. There were no pretty pieces of 
furniture, no pictures to please the eye, only 
bare, unplastered walls and a mud floor, which, 
when the fall rains came on, was covered with 
water. 

Beppino moved, then rubbed his eyes and 
sat up. Over on the other side of the room lay 
Assunta, the coarse, hard wife of his master, 
the only mother he had ever known. Poor 
little lad ! she had been worse than no mother 
at all! In other parts of the room were the 
children, dirty and ragged. There were five 
of them, ranging from eight to one year, and 
they begged daily on the streets of Rome. 
Beppino was the only one among them all who 
earned an honest living. 

He got up softly, stepped over the bodies of 



“How beautiful it is!” Beppino said. (Page 21.) 


mmmmm 
















BEPPINO’S FIRST GOOD TIME. 17 

his adopted brothers and sisters, and went out 
into the fresh air. It was a beautiful day, and 
the sun was turning the range of mountains 
which surrounds Rome into colors of amethyst 
and blue and rose. Beppino did not look at 
the mountains in their glory; he was used to 
them. He sat down on the ground by an old 
wall, over which some fragrant flowers were 
drooping, and thought. So, to-day, he was to 
go to play for the gentleman who had laid his 
hand so gently on his head. Were there many 
people like him in the world? he wondered. 
He had never met them before, if there were. 

A loud voice at his side made the little fellow 
jump. It was Rodolfo speaking, and he woke 
the child rudely enough from his dreaming. 

* ‘ Hello, Beppino ! So you’re going to the 
Englishman’s to-day, are you?” he said, slap- 
ping the other boy on the shoulder. 

Beppino was older than Rodolfo by two years, 
but the younger lad was as tall as he — perhaps 
because he had had better care and more love, 
for Assunta worshiped her oldest son. He had 
been spoiled by being allowed to do exactly 
what he pleased, and although not really a bad 

boy, was very rude and bold. 

2 


18 


BEPPINO. 


“How did you know?” asked Beppino, sur- 
prised. 

‘ ‘ I heard father say so last night when he 
came home. That was a pretty good knock he 
gave you, wasn't it ? ” The boy laughed loudly. 

Beppino blushed until his white face was 
crimson. His little hands clinched. Would 
the day ever come when he should be a man, 
and could pay back all these insults ? 

“And I’m going with you,” continued Ro- 
dolfo, delighted to tease his playmate. 

“ You!” 

“Yes, I, Rodolfo Perini! Signor Nobody, 
how do you like that? Haven’t I as good a 
right as you to go?” 

Beppino made no reply. All the pleasure of 
a visit to a great gentleman’s house would be 
spoiled if Rodolfo were to go, too. He choked 
back a tear and turned away. The other boy 
called after him: “You needn’t cry, baby. 
Mother said I was to go, and you know that 
what mother says is done, in this house.” 

Yes, poor Beppino knew that well enough. 
Many a time had he borne the punishment of 
the other children because Assunta had told 
Giovanni things which never happened. 


BEPPINO’S FIRST GOOD TIME. 19 

“Come here and get a piece of bread,” called 
Assunta’s harsh voice, and each child received 
a portion of the dark loaf which served for the 
family breakfast. 

In another half hour the whole family was on 
its way through the old gate and into the city, 
where the streets were filled with veilders of 
fruit and vegetables and the carts of the mar- 
ket women. Assunta and the children went to 
their accustomed stand on one of the corners 
where there were many persons passing by, 
and, through a pretense of being worthy, pov- 
erty-stricken people, they received a good many 
pennies in the course of the day from the 
generous Italians. 

Giovanni, with his son Rodolfo and Beppino, 
went into the broad, new part of the city, stop- 
ping occasionally to play before some window. 
Soon a crowd gathered around, and Giovanni 
was well satisfied with the result of the collec- 
tion, which Rodolfo took up, as his share in 
the work. At noontime they had a long rest in 
the shade of a big church, lying lazily on the 
ground. A little fruit and another chunk of 
bread formed their dinner, but they were quite 
contented with that, for they seldom got any- 


20 


BEPPINO. 


thing better to eat. Beppino could never re- 
member the taste of meat. Sometimes Giovanni 
and Assunta had had a little, but the children, 
especially Beppino, rarely shared in the feast. 
The man took in a good deal of money, by dint 
of the begging of the children and the profits 
which he made off of Beppino, but he threw it 
away on lottery tickets, hoping to win a great 
prize, which he never got, and what remained 
after these ventures he spent at the “Trattoria,” 
for the red wine of the country. Beppino 
dreaded those nights, for he always received a 
heavy blow. 

The street on which the Englishman lived 
was wide and the houses were all handsome. 
There were many balconies, with pots of flow- 
ers, roses and lilies, sweet and fresh-looking in 
the midst of the heat. Beppino looked around 
him with wonder and pleasure as the three 
mounted the marble stairs. Down in a shady 
court, in the middle of the house, a fountain 
was splashing, with lacy ferns growing about it. 
An ancient marble statue, which had adorned 
some palace many hundreds of years before, 
stood on one side of the court, and near it the 
portiera , who guarded the door, sat knitting. 


BEPPINO’S FIRST GOOD TIME. 21 

“ How beautiful it is!” Beppino said, but 
Giovanni grasped his hand tighter, and replied 
in a loud whisper : 

‘ 4 Don’t you dare to make one bit of noise, 
you young imp. If you do, you know what 
you’ll get when we go home.” 

Beppino trembled at the threatening look and 
said nothing more. 

Mr. Carroll and his wife and son had come 
from a pleasant country home in England the 
September before to spend the winter in Rome. 
In April Mrs. Carroll had been taken very ill, 
so ill that they feared she would die. When 
she got a little better she was still too weak to 
leave the city and go into the cool mountains, 
and that was how it happened that the family 
was still in Rome, even though the torrid heat 
of summer was upon the beautiful country of 
Italy. 

The room in which the lady lay, and into 
which the three wanderers were shown, seemed 
to the two boys like a bit out of heaven. Even 
rough Giovanni was impressed by it, and stood 
twirling his soft hat in his hands. The lady, 
who had a very sweet face, lay on a couch by 
the open window, through which she could look 


22 


BEPPINO. 


down at the queer, irregular roofs of old Rome. 
Fragrant odors came in on the air, and near 
her, in a tall crystal vase, was a great bunch of 
white lilies with yellow hearts. There were 
soft carpets and fine paintings and comfort- 
able easy chairs. It was no wonder that the 
poor little lads from the unfinished house out- 
side the walls looked at everything with their 
mouths wide open. 

In one corner was a grand piano, and on it 
Robert Carroll laid his violin when his visitors 
entered. 

" Father will be here in a moment,” he said, 
kindly. 4 'Is this another violinist?” He took 
Rodolfo's brown hand. 

"No, sir,” Giovanni replied, clearing his 
throat. He felt very strange indeed in this 
elegant room. "That's my son Rodolfo.” 

"O! Glad to see you. Please sit down. 
Now, little Beppino, are you ready to play? 
Here's my mother, who wants to hear you.” 

The child shot a quick glance at the lady 
in her pretty white dress. " She looks like the 
pictures of the Madonna,” he thought. Bep- 
pino’s only idea of womanly beauty was derived 
from the paintings of the mother of our Sav- 


BEPPINO’S FIRST GOOD TIME. 23 

iour, as he had seen them in the Catholic 
churches, where the priests in their golden 
vestments said mass. Timidly he took up his 
violin and commenced to play. Very soft and 
sad was the melody that swelled out, and the 
child forgot himself in his music. 

“Well done!” called out Mr. Carroll, who 
had entered during the playing. 

“Give him the Stradivarius, Robert. Let’s 
see what sort of sounds he brings out of that.” 

Little Beppino took the costly violin, know- 
ing nothing of its value or its great age. He 
touched it gently with the bow, and then it 
seemed to him as though the room and the 
beautiful lady faded away; he was all alone 
with the violin. He played as he had never 
done before, and the music sounded like the 
rippling waves upon the seashore, and the sad 
song of a mermaid rising above it. Robert 
crept nearer and nearer to the child ; but Bep- 
pino did not notice him. Longer and longer 
he played, and the sweat rolled off his poor, 
pinched face. Then, suddenly with a quick 
chord, he threw down the violin and began to 
weep. 

Giovanni was very angry. Well, this would 


24 


BEPPINO. 


be the end of their good luck now. Had the 
child no sense ? He stood up. “ We’d better 
be going, sir.” 

“ Wait a moment.” Mr. Carroll went across 
the room to his wife. “ What do you think of 
that? ” he asked, bending over her. 

“ It’s beautiful! Wonderful! We must do 
something for the boy,” she answered. 

“ I think so, too. Shall we let him come and 
share Robert’s lessons? ” 

“Yes, do,” and the sick lady’s face looked 
brighter than it had for a long time. 

<4 Show the boys some pictures, Robert, while 
I talk to the man,” said Mr. Carroll. 

Beppino, ashamed of his tears, had wiped 
his eyes on the ragged sleeve of his coat, and 
sat, a little sulkily, in a corner. He did not 
know what had made him cry ; but he knew he 
had been so happy with the old violin until 
something made him feel, O! so sad. The 
child did not recognize the wonderful gift which 
God had bestowed upon him. 

It was not hard to persuade Giovanni to allow 
Beppino to come there and share Robert’s les- 
sons. He was glad to do so, for he considered 
Beppino as part of the property, and if the child 


BEPPINO'S FIRST GOOD TIME. 25 

was to have good fortune, Giovanni was pretty 
sure that he could manage to get a fair profit 
out of it. 

From this day on there came a change in 
little Beppino’s life, a change so remarkable 
that the boy almost feared that he would wake 
up and find it all a dream. Twice each week 
he went to the gentleman’s house and was per- 
mitted to play on the old violin. The professor 
who gave the two boys lessons was very proud 
of his new pupil. Robert, who knew well that 
he could never succeed in learning to play the 
violin, stood back and watched the child press 
forward, grasping eagerly each fresh idea about 
music, seeking to make the most of his chance 
to improve. He did not mind any more the un- 
kindness which Assunta heaped upon him. She 
was very angry because her Rodolfo had not 
taken the attention of the strangers, and vented 
her wrath upon little Beppino. However, he 
did not care much what she did, for he could 
steal away and practice on his cheap violin the 
exercises which the master had taught him, and 
dream about the day when he could once more 
mount the marble steps, and touch — O, so care- 
fully! — the precious Stradivarius. Then, too. 


26 


BEPPINO. 


he had a new suit and a pretty cap, with flow- 
ing blue ribbons, which was the envy of all the 
other children. Each time he took his lesson 
he was sent out into the kitchen to eat such a 
good dinner ! Everything was going on nicely, 
and Beppino began to make plans for the fu- 
ture, when he could leave Giovanni and the 
cruel Assunta and fight his own way in the 
world. Then it was that something dreadful 
happened. 


WHERE IS MY VIOLIN ? 


27 


CHAPTER III. 

“WHERE IS MY VIOLIN? ” 

I T was beginning to grow dark one warm even- 
* ing in August. All of the Carroll family 
were out driving, for Mrs. Carroll was getting 
much stronger, and they hoped in another month 
to go back to their home in England. The only 
person left in the apartment was the cook, a 
woman over sixty years of age, who was a little 
blind. Francesco, the man, had gone out on an 
errand. 

As the darkness grew deeper a little boy crept 
under the great entrance door opening on the 
street and spoke to the woman who sat at the 
gateway. She had not yet lighted the gas, for it 
was hot, and then, too, there were no families in 
the house. Everyone was away at the seashore 
or in the mountains, except the Carrolls, and 
they would not be back for a while longer. 

“ Is Mr. Carroll at home? ” asked the boy. 

“No, dear, they're all out; the gentleman 
and the pretty sick lady and the young master." 


28 


BEPPINO. 


“ Will they be back soon? ” 

“ Before long, I guess. Did you want 
them?” 

“Well, you see,” the boy continued, “I left 
my violin here to-day, when I came for my les- 
son, and I shall need it to-night to play at the 
cafes. I ought not to wait for them. Isn't there 
anybody at home? ” 

“ Old Sofia’s there. She’ll get it for you. So 
you’re the boy that plays so finely,” she called 
after him, as he ran quickly up the steps. He 
made some answer, but she could not understand 
what he said. 

The boy rang the bell at the door of Mr. Car- 
roll’s apartment, and trembled a little as he 
heard old Sofia’s footsteps coming down the hall. 
Suppose Mr. and Mrs. Carroll should be in, after 
all ! Sometimes the portiera did not know. He 
had no reason to fear, however, for Sofia, in 
answer to his question, assured him that every- 
one was out. She, too, was sitting in the dark- 
ness, on account of the heat. 

“ I’ll light a candle for you,” she said, hurry- 
ing away to the kitchen. 

Before she could return, the boy had run 
quickly into the parlor and, groping his way to 


“WHERE IS MY VIOLIN ? ” 29 

the piano, moved his hands over it in search of 
the violin. 

“ I’ve got it! ” he murmured, with a sigh of 
relief. Then, hastening into the corridor, he 
called to Sofia, who was coming from the kitchen 
with a lighted taper in her hand : “ It’s all right, 
Sofia. I found it.” Slamming the door after 
him, he ran swiftly down the steps and past the 
p or tier a. 

“ Did you get it? ” she asked, turning around 
from the gas jet which she was lighting. 

But the boy made no reply ; he was in too 
much of a hurry. 

“ Povero bambino!” (‘ 4 Poor child!”) she 
muttered ; “ if he doesn’t go quickly, his master 
will whip him. Ah, me! it’s a hard world for 
the poor.” 

Then she bowed and smiled, as a carriage 
drove up to the door, and Mr. Carroll jumped 
out, helping his wife to alight, half carrying her 
to a small elevator which was in the court. 
Robert followed, with his arms full of his 
mother’s shawls and pillows. 

When all three were seated on the velvet 
cushions, and the elevator began to ascend very 
slowly, Robert said, “ Did you notice that boy, 


30 


BEPPINO. 


father, who was running so fast, with the violin 
under his arm? ” 

“ No, my son, I did not see him.” 

“ It looked a good deal like Beppino, only the 
boy seemed a little larger.” 

“ Poor little Beppino ! ” remarked the mother, 
in the same pitiful tone which the portiera had 
used, “ I expect he will be out to-night, playing 
until midnight.” 

“ If he keeps on with his lessons, he will some 
day be a great player, and can get away from 
that wicked man and take care of himself,” 
said Robert. “ You are going to keep on help- 
ing him, aren’t you, father, even though we go 
away? ” 

4 i If he behaves as well as he does now. But 
you cannot tell about such children. He has 
been badly brought up, and, though it has not 
been his fault, it may crop out somewhere.” 

“ He has a good face,” responded his wife; 
and just then the elevator, having crept up the 
shaft, after the manner of Roman 4 ‘lifts,” ar- 
rived at their landing. Little Beppino was for- 
gotten for that evening. 

The next morning Robert went into the par- 
lor to practice on his violin. It was very, very 


“ WHERE IS MY VIOLIN ?” 31 

hot. Since May there had not been one drop of 
rain, and the streets fairly smoked with heat of 
the burning sunshine. The plants were with- 
ered in the garden, and even Mrs. Carroll’s 
flowers in the shaded window were parched and 
lifeless. All Rome was gasping for breath. 

Robert went to the window and looked out. 
In front of him lay a wide square, flooded with 
sunshine, and entirely deserted. In a dark, 
narrow street, leading away from it, men, 
women, and children were stretched in the 
cooler corners, not caring whether they lived or 
died. The river Tiber flowed along, a little 
distance away, very slowly, as if it, too, were so 
hot that it could not move as it usually did, and 
the dome of St. Peter’s, which stood out against 
a dull, burnished sky, threw forth heat from its 
metal roof. 

“Well, I’m glad we’re going to get out of 
this furnace! ” exclaimed Robert. “ I don’t be- 
lieve there is another English-speaking person 
in the city. Rome, in the summer, is certainly 
the burniest place I ever struck ! I’m so glad 
mother seems so much better. Now for prac- 
ticing ! I don’t see why a person has to work 
when it’s so hot ! The Italians have some sense. 


32 


BEPPINO. 


They just lie around and wait for it to cool off. 
But the English think they have to work just 
the same, and then they get sick. O, dear me ! 
I wish I was an Italian ! ” 

Thus grumbling, Robert dropped the dark 
Venetian blind, through which a hot wind was 
penetrating, and walked over to the piano. That 
afternoon the professor would come to give the 
lesson. Poor man! he had to work even if it 
were hot ; and perhaps there were a few other 
Italians who could not be idle. Robert thought 
of several others now. And he had not prac- 
ticed one single note since the last lesson ! No 
doubt, during the heat, little Beppino, huddled 
down behind the shadow of the old house out- 
side the walls, had worked faithfully! There 
was another example of industry on the part 
of the Italians. 

With a sigh Robert sternly resolved to do his 
duty, and he went to the place where his violin 
usually was. He was very careless about it, and 
almost always forgot to put it in the case. 

Suddenly his eyes opened wide. “Why, 
that’s funny!” he exclaimed. “I was sure 
that I left my violin on the piano. I always 
do. But of course, I haven’t practiced much 



'‘He ran swiftly.” (Page 29.) 












“WHERE IS MY VIOLIN?” 33 

this week,” he added, with a prick of con- 
science; 4 'no doubt Francesco has stuck it 
away somewhere.” 

He searched everywhere, but in vain. No 
violin was there. 

"A violin couldn’t get lost! It’s too big. 
Francesco!” he called, hearing the man’s foot- 
steps in the hall, "have you seen my violin? 
I thought I left it here on the piano.” 

" It was on the piano yesterday afternoon, I 
am sure, Signor Roberto. I saw it there.” 
Francesco’s olive face grew a little pale. It 
was a serious thing for the servants when any- 
thing was missing from the apartment. 

"I was sure it was, too. Let’s look for it.” 

So the two searched all over the apartment, 
except in Mrs. Carroll’s room, where the invalid 
was still sleeping. Nowhere could they find 
the slightest trace of the violin. 

Francesco’s hands trembled. " I am positive 
that I saw it there yesterday afternoon, Signor 
Roberto,” he repeated. 

"Don’t you be afraid, Francesco; I don’t 

think you took it,” Robert replied, with a laugh. 

He did not yet believe that the violin was lost. 

How could it be, when it was on the piano in 
3 


34 


BEPPINO. 


its accustomed place yesterday? “ It’ll turn 
up somewhere. Such things always do.” 

“ Was it worth much? ” 

Francesco’s face was still white. He knew 
what it meant to have the carabinieri, in their 
queer uniform and side pistols, come in and 
search an apartment for stolen goods. Perhaps 
he would be carried away to prison on suspicion 
by the police. No wonder he trembled ! 

“Something like ten thousand francs, two 
thousand dollars,” said Robert, carelessly. “ It 
was a very rare one, and very old. You know, 
the older they are the more they cost.” 

“Here comes the padrone! (master)” ex- 
claimed Francesco, and then, like a shot, he 
sped down the hall and into the kitchen. 
“Ten thousand francs it cost!” he said, as he 
opened the door. 

“What did?” asked old Sofia, turning around 
from her charcoal fire to see what was the 
matter. 

“The young master’s violin. What will be- 
come of us, Sofia? It’s gone, gone, the old 
violin, for which the gentleman paid ten thou- 
sand francs — a fortune ! What will become of 
us?” 


- WHERE IS MY VIOLIN ? ” 35 

Sofia threw down her spoon, and, regardless 
of the cookery on the fire, rushed to the door. 
“ Don’t you worry, Francesco, we sha’n’t get ar- 
rested. You just guess I know who took that 
violin! The young rascal!” she muttered 
hurrying through the hall to the parlor. 

Francesco, breathing more freely, went after 
her, and heard her say, as she knocked at the 
door, “ Pardon, signore, but Francesco tells 
me that the young master has lost his 
violin.” 

“Yes; do you know anything about it, So- 
fia?” 

“ It’s that boy you took in, sir, asking your 
pardon for speaking so frankly. You can’t do 
that here, whatever you may do in England — 
which must be a very queer place,” she added, 
under her breath. “It isn’t safe to take in 
beggars off the street and let them play the vio- 
lin in the parlor, and let them eat off the good 
dishes in the kitchen with a silver knife and 
fork. You’ve always got to pay for it.” 

Mr. Carroll waited patiently for the storm of 
Italian to cease. “Do you know anything 
about the violin? ” he repeated, quietly. 

The woman, as if in response to his tone, re- 


36 


BEPPINO. 


plied more slowly: “ Last night, sir, just before 
you and the lady came home, that young rascal 
came to the door and said that he had left his 
violin here and would need it in the evening. 
He asked if you were in, and then said he could 
find it himself, the thief! ” 

‘ 'Don’t judge too quickly, Sofia. Are you sure 
it was Beppino? ” 

‘ * Who else would be coming and inquiring 
about a violin, if it wasn’t Beppino?” responded 
the old woman, in a tone of annoyance. “In- 
deed it was Beppino, sir. I could swear to 
him. Hasn’t he eaten in my kitchen twice a 
week? Ask the portiera . She must have seen 
him when he came in. She’s always there.” 

“Call her up.” 

In a few moments the portiera stood in the 
parlor and, although very much frightened, 
told the same story as Sofia. 

“ Shall I go and call the guard, sir? ” asked 
Francesco, who was again smiling. It was very 
easy to call a guard for some one else. 

“ I will attend to all that,” replied Mr. 
Carroll. “ Thank you all very much for the in- 
formation you have given me.” He pressed a 
small coin into the hand of each one as they 


“WHERE IS MY VIOLIN ? * 37 

passed out, and then, with a sad look on 
his face, he turned to his son. "Robert/' 
he continued, "this is a bad business. Didn't 
you tell me that you thought you saw Bep- 
pino running with a violin in his hand? " 

"Yes, father; but I may have made a mis- 
take. I cannot believe that Beppino would do 
such a thing. Think of his face, father, how 
sweet and patient it is ! " 

" I know. He seemed to me a lovely child. 
But he has had the worst of training ; he knows 
nothing good. I fear that the temptation was 
too great for him or for that wicked man with 
whom he lives, and who knows well the value 
of the instrument." 

Robert stood thinking a moment. "You 
won’t have him arrested, will you, father?" he 
pleaded. " He’s so little." 

"Perhaps not too little to steal, my boy. 
However, I will do what I can to find the violin, 
and, if possible, let the poor, ignorant child go 
free. I have no doubt that the man is far more 
guilty than he. Let us go out and see what we 
can do about it." 

Without saying anything to Mrs. Carroll, the 
father and son went out into the deserted 


38 


BEPPINO. 


streets, where the sun was glaring on the white 
pavements, to see if they could find any trace 
of the violin without going to the authorities or 
to Beppino himself. 


POOR LITTLE BEPPINO ! 


39 


CHAPTER IV. 

POOR LITTLE BEPPINO! 

HAT afternoon, Beppino, with his hat 



* stuck jauntily on the side of his head, 
went down through the city streets. He was 
thinking of how very strangely Assunta had 
acted that morning before he went out with 
Giovanni. She seemed to be very happy over 
something, and sang her queer Neapolitan airs 
in a loud, harsh voice. 

“ You enjoy your lessons, Beppino ?” she 
asked, handing him out his usual breakfast, a 
crust of hard bread. There was a hard look in 
her eyes, which made the child shrink back. 
He was greatly afraid of Assunta. 

“ Very much,” he replied, and, seizing the 
bread, ran away. 

She called after him, jeeringly, “ Much luck 
may they bring you, little Beppino!” There 
was such a wicked, such a cruel tone in her 
voice that it made the words, which seemed 
like a blessing, sound like a curse. Beppino 


40 


BEPPINO. 


had shivered, even though the sun was scorch- 
ing hot. 

They had stayed by him all day, these words 
of the woman, “Much luck may they bring 
you, little Beppino!” What could she have 
meant by them? Assunta never said anything 
kind, so she must have wished him evil in her 
heart. He knew that she was very angry, be- 
cause, after Rodolfo had gone with Beppino 
three times, sitting in the beautiful room, 
with his great black eyes roving over all the 
wonderful things which were there, sometimes, 
when he thought nobody was looking, getting 
down to finger some delicate embroidery or 
costly vase, Mr. Carroll had told him not to 
come again. Assunta raved around the rough 
room at home, and beat Beppino, and would 
have torn his pretty new suit to pieces if Gio- 
vanni had not held her hands. 

Ever since then she had been very harsh to 
the stranger child. Often, Beppino, covered 
with bruises, and with tears rolling down his 
thin cheeks, crept out to a deserted field to play 
over his exercises and cheer himself up. 

He turned the corner of the street in which 
Mr. Carroll lived and his face brightened. Once 


POOR LITTLE BEPPINO ! 


41 


more he could touch the dear old violin, whose 
softest tone was richest music. He gave a smile 
to the portiera , who was sitting, as usual, in the 
doorway, knitting, and was springing past her, 
when she stopped him. 

“ Don’t go up,” she said, in a whisper; “ it’s 
not safe.” 

“Why not? Is anybody dead?” asked the 
boy, frightened at her tone and words. 

“You put it on very well,” she responded; 
“for my part, I don’t see how you have the 
face to show yourself here so soon. But I don’t 
care; you’ve had a hard life, and you don’t 
know any better. I want to be your friend. 
How could you come here to-day, after what 
you did last night? ” 

“Last night!” Beppino looked up, bewil- 
dered. “ I wasn’t here last night. I was way 
across the river by St. Peter’s. It was a festa, 
and there were lots of people there, and we 
made a lot of soldi." 

“ Is the child crazy,” the woman murmured, 
“or did I dream ? Wasn’t it you who came 
here about half past eight last night and wanted 
your violin ? ” 

“ No, how could I, when I went with Gio- 


42 


BEPPINO. 


vanni at seven over there, and didn’t get back 
till after eleven o’clock? ” Beppino’s eyes were 
big and round. 

“ Upon my word, I believe you, Beppino; 
but I tell you, you must get out of here quickly 
and make for home, or the carabinieri will 
catch you, sure ! ” 

Beppino’s heart began to beat fast and his 
legs shook. What had he done that the cara- 
binieri — those big, rough policemen, who car- 
ried people away to prison — should want to get 
him, a poor little boy? 

“The young master’s violin is stolen,” con- 
tinued the woman, quickly, glancing about her 
to see if anyone was near. ‘ ‘ A boy who looked 
like you came here last night and took it away. 
Run! Quick!” 

Almost frightened out of his wits, the poor 
little fellow began to run, and, as rapidly as he 
could, he fled across the city and through the 
big gate, the Porta San Giovanni. Every few 
minutes he turned, thinking that the dreaded 
carabinieri were behind him ; but no one was in 
sight. The guard stood at the gate, and he ex- 
pected to feel a hand laid upon his shoulder 
each moment, but no hand touched him. 


POOR LITTLE BEPPINO I 43 

Breathless, almost tired to death, he entered 
the old, unfinished house, and fell like a hunted 
animal on the floor of the room which he called 
home. 

Giovanni, in his absence, had taken the 
chance to rest, and was sleeping soundly when 
Beppino waked him by rushing in at the open 
doorway. Jumping up, he gave a kick at the 
boy’s motionless figure. 

‘ ‘ What’s the matter with you ? I thought 
you would not bp back for another hour. They 
usually keep you and feed you up so well that 
you don’t need anything more to eat until you 
go again. And it’s little' enough you get 
when Assunta’s around,” he added, with a loud 
laugh. 

Then he stooped over the child, who did not 
move. “ What’s the matter with him anyway? 
Here! wake up! ” 

But there was no movement. Giovanni, a 
little frightened, ran quickly out of doors to a 
little stream which flowed, cold and sparkling, 
from the far-away mountains, through a queer 
old carved Gorgon’s head. Catching some of 
it in a battered cup, he hurried back and bathed 
the boy’s temples, where the blue veins were so 


44 


BEPPINO. 


distinct. Beppino sighed, took a long breath, 
and opened his eyes. 

“ You’re funny! ” said Giovanni, more kindly 
than he usually spoke. You’ve given me a bad 
fright. What under the sun did you come 
running in here in that way for, and fall 
down ? ” 

‘‘Giovanni,” the boy whispered, “somebody 
stole the Signor Roberto’s violin last night, and 
they think I did it. They’re going to send the 
carabinieri after me. O, save me ! save me ! ” 

“You didn’t steal it,” Giovanni replied , “you 
were with me all the evening ; but, of course, 
they wouldn’t believe it ; they’d think I put you 
up to it. It looks pretty bad.” 

He thought a minute. Then he got up and 
looked down the street toward the city, and the 
bronzed face was white. “ I wish Assunta would 
come,” he muttered. “Was it worth much, 
Beppino? ” 

“The portiera said ten thousand francs,” re- 
plied Beppino, between his sobs, adding, with 
simplicity, “ I suppose that’s a good deal.” 

Giovanni whistled. Then he got up and looked 
out again. 

The sun was going down. A soft, purple 


POOR XITTLE BEPPINO ! 


45 


haze began to surround the old, rough house, 
but neither the man nor the boy noticed its 
beauty. 

Giovanni’s face brightened. Yonder came 
Assunta, and following her were the five chil- 
dren, with Rodolfo leading. 

“What’s the matter? ” exclaimed the woman, 
when she saw a strange expression on her hus- 
band’s face. 

“Matter enough!” he answered, drawing 
her on one side and telling her Beppino’s story. 

4 4 1 always thought the young rascal would 
come to harm,” she responded, in an exultant 
tone. “ How much is the old violin worth? ” 

“ Ten thousand lire.” 

“Ten thousand lire!” she replied, amazed. 
Then she laughed. “ All the worse for him. I 
guess my Rodolfo won’t be turned out of a gen- 
tleman’s house again for the sake of a brat I 
found on the street! ” 

Her husband turned and looked at her sharply. 
“ Do you know anything about the violin? ” he 
asked. 

“ How should I? ” she replied. 

He was not satisfied, but continued: “Per- 
haps you do not realize my danger in this mat- 


46 


BEPPINO. 


ter. Of course they will think that it is a put- 
up job, and that I am at the bottom of it. The 
boy did not take it. He was with me all the 
evening; but how can a poor man prove it? 
We must leave this place. It is dangerous 
for us.” 

When the night fell Giovanni and his family 
crept quietly away to seek a new and unknown 
home. 

A week later a woman came softly around the 
side of the unfinished house. She groped about, 
feeling with her hands for a certain place in the 
ground. Then she dug deep into the earth 
and, drawing out a violin, wrapped it up in her 
old shawl and fled away into the darkness. 

Life was hard indeed for little Beppino now ! 
Giovanni, who dared not take the boy into the 
city to play on his violin, was very ugly to him. 
Assunta jeered at him as being the cause of all 
their troubles. He had little to eat, and was so 
weak that the least unkind word would bring 
tears. Everything was lost. The future had 
looked so bright. He had hoped to make a 
musician of himself, and had hoped to leave 
Giovanni. He was not a thief, but he must live 
as though he were. He was too little and too 


POOR LITTLE BEPPINO ! 47 

ignorant to try to work out the mystery for him- 
self, and too frightened to go directly to Mr. 
Carroll and declare his innocence. 

One day he wandered away from the others 
and sat down on the hillside, where he could 
look at the beautiful blue mountains which lay 
around Rome. Some sheep were grazing near 
by, occasionally raising their heads to gaze sol- 
emnly at the poor solitary boy. Then they 
went on nibbling the brown, dried-up grass, for 
as yet no cooling rain had come to Rome. 

As he sat there he remembered something 
that had happened in June. He was walking 
along a wide, handsome street when he heard 
singing. The building looked like a church, 
and there was a cross over the door, so he went 
in. The large room within was all pure white, 
except some mild rays of pink and yellow which 
filtered through the stained-glass windows. 
There was no picture of Christ upon the cross, 
no statue of the Madonna, the mother of Jesus, 
and no altar decorated with gaudy paper flowers. 
Instead, there were masses of lovely blossoms, 
fresh from the gardens, and, in their midst, 
many children were singing. 

The little fellow, hugging his violin to his 


48 


BEPPINO. 


breast, stood for a while listening at the door, 
then he pressed forward into the crowd, until 
he was just behind the children. 

Then he caught the words : 

“ I have a Father in the Promised Land, 

My Father calls me, I must go, 

To meet him in the Promised Land/* 

The great organ ceased, and Beppino slipped 
into a vacant seat. 

In a few simple words a gentleman told the 
children about a loving Father in heaven, who 
sent Jesus to earth. How dearly the Father 
loved all children! He would give them all 
that they asked if, in his wisdom, he thought it 
best. 

“ Don’t pray to the Madonna, children,” he 
said. “She can do nothing for you. Pray to 
the Father, who loves you, and to Jesus Christ, 
who died for you.” 

Beppino remembered every word of it, as 
he sat here on the hillside. The Father, God, 
would give him what he asked, if it were 
right. Suppose he should ask him, just now! 
The child, aching and bruised from blows, 
weak from hunger, knelt down and prayed for 









POOR LITTLE BEPPINO ! 49 

the first time in his life. He had often knelt 
beside Assunta in the big Catholic churches on 
festival days, for the woman thought it her 
duty to take the children to mass ; but he had 
never prayed . He had only muttered over some 
words she told him to say. Here it was differ- 
ent. God must be very near by, outdoors, under 
the open sky. He could surely hear him, here. 

The little sincere prayer arose to the Father, 
who looked down so pityingly upon the orphan 
boy: “Dear Father in heaven/’ Beppino said, 
“the man said you would do what we ask. 
Please help me to find the gentleman’s violin. 
I didn’t take it, Father in heaven, I really 
didn’t. I was away over at St. Peter’s that 
night. He was so good to me, Father in heaven. 
Please help me find the violin and take it back 
to him.” 

He did not know anything about saying 
“Amen,” this little heathen boy. He knelt 
and knelt until the sun went down in a mass of 
golden-tinted clouds. Then he got up and 
went back to Giovanni. Surely the Father in 
heaven would help him to find the violin for the 

kind gentleman. And his heart was comforted. 

4 


50 


BEPPINO. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE CAVE IN THE HILLSIDE. 

W HEN Giovanni left the old house near 
the Porta San Giovanni to find a hiding 
place, he dared not remain within the city limits, 
so he went far out into the broad fields which 
lie about Rome. The father, mother, and the 
children, with Beppino, walked mile after mile 
into the country, and the summer’s sun broke 
through the darkness, and everything was tinted 
rose in the soft morning light. 

“Here we are!” cried Giovanni, throwing 
the bag, full of their few household belongings, 
down upon the ground. “ This will do finely; 
don’t you think so, Assunta?” 

The woman nodded, and stood still to look at 
their new home, while the children, all but Bep- 
pino, capered with wild delight. This was the 
nicest place they had ever seen! All around 
lay the fields, and off on the right rose a steep 
hill, upon whose summit there was a ruined 
castle. Rodolfo promised himself that he would 


THE CAVE IN THE HILLSIDE. 51 

soon climb that hill and find out what was in 
that broken-down house. 

“ Are we to live here, Babbo?” asked Maria, 
who was six, and the image of her mother. 

For answer her father walked up to a large 
cave which was cut into the hill and peered 
about it. From above long creepers of wild 
ivy hung down and almost hid the entrance. 
Beppino’s curiosity was aroused, and he pressed 
forward with the others to see this strange, 
new home. It looked very dark at first, and 
he could not distinguish anything, but, as his 
eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he saw 
that the cave was large, with a hard earth floor 
and a rounded roof. There were the remains 
of a fire in one corner, and other signs that 
some wanderers had lived there not long before. 

4 ‘I’ll go and get some bamboo,” said Gio- 
vanni. “ Come, Rodolfo and Beppino, you can 
help me, and we’ll soon get our house in shape. 
Then we can lie down and sleep.” 

The man was in high good humor at the suc- 
cess of his escape from the city and the sharp 
eyes of the police. 

“ You see, I knew about this place,” he con- 
tinued, as the two boys followed him into a 


52 


BEPPINO. 


field where straight bamboo stalks were grow- 
ing. 

The river Tiber makes a great curve after 
leaving Rome, and winds itself around like a 
sinewy water snake near the place where the 
fugitives had taken refuge. Along its banks 
grew the bamboo, the only green thing to be 
seen in all the country, for Italy was thirsting 
for rain. 

The three gathered a huge armful of the 
bamboo stalks, most of them more than six 
feet tall, and, carrying them back to the cave, 
planted them across the entrance, so that the 
opening was entirely concealed. 

4 4 It’ll be hard work for the carabinieri to catch 
us now,” muttered Giovanni, examining with 
a satisfied air the results of his labors. 

“Hist! There’s a couple of them coming 
now! ” exclaimed Rodolfo. 

Almost before the words were out of his 
mouth the entire family had disappeared inside 
the cave. Beppino was among the first, for he 
was terribly afraid of getting arrested for a sin 
which he had never committed. 

The two policemen, like those who patrol Italy 
in all directions, to protect property and people, 


THE CAVE IN THE HILLSIDE. 53 

wore uniforms of dark blue cloth, with quaintly 
shaped three-cornered hats. They were on 
horseback, and the frightened group within the 
cave huddled down more closely in the darkness 
when they heard the ring of the horses' hoofs 
upon the hard ground. 

As the sound died away Giovanni got up, but 
his humor had changed. ‘ ‘ It's all your fault ! " 
he shouted, going over to little Beppino, who 
was crouching in fear. " Why did we ever take 
you in when we found you starving upon the 
street? " 

If Beppino had dared, he would have quickly 
replied, " Because you knew you could use me 
to get money," but he was only a weak child, in 
the power of a cruel man and woman, so he kept 
silent, and bore patiently the blows which rained 
down upon his frail body. 

" You've brought us nothing but bad 
luck," said the man, with an oath, "and 
I wish I had left you to die of cold and 
hunger." 

Assunta looked on, smiling exultantly. Then, 
turning to give a kiss to Rodolfo, she said, 
"My little son, you see what a bad boy Bep- 
pino is." 


54 


BEPPINO. 


4 4 Does he get whipped because of the violin 
that I — ” 

Assunta put her hand over his mouth, and 
looked at him so threateningly that he shrank 
back. “Lie down and go to sleep,” she con- 
tinued, aloud ; then, as he sank on the ground, 
she added, in a whisper, 44 if you ever breathe 
a word about that, you know what will hap- 
pen.” 

Rodolfo sobbed, but, obediently turning on his 
side, was soon asleep. 

In this cave, only one of hundreds which were 
cut into the low hills, within a few miles of 
Rome, and which were used as homes by many 
poor persons, Giovanni’s family lived. The 
cave was a cool refuge from the blazing sun, 
and they managed to exist, chiefly by stealing 
vegetables from the gardens of the villas which 
were near them, or grapes and figs from the 
trees and vines upon the campagna, as the flat 
country surrounding Rome is called. Bread 
they had not, for it was not safe to venture into 
the city. 

It was now the second week in September, 
two weeks since Beppino had said his prayer to 
the Father in heaven, with his face turned up- 





\ 


“Don't you hake to come back!” 


she cried. (Page 57.) 




THE CAVE IN THE HILLSIDE. 55 

ward to the clear blue sky. But no answer had 
come. Each day, in childish faith, the boy had 
repeated the words, “Dear Father in heaven, 
please help me to find the violin, that I may take 
it back to the kind gentleman.’' And one day, 
crying as if his little heart would break, he 
added another petition, “ O, dear Father in 
heaven, please help me to find it, for I am so 
sorry that they should think me a thief.” But 
no answer came, and Beppino began to lose 
faith. No doubt these people who did not pray 
to the Mother Mary were wrong. The Father 
in heaven would not hear the prayer of a little 
child. Next time he would pray to the Ma- 
donna, who, so Assunta had told him once, 
would ask the Lord, her Son, and the Lord, 
who loved his mother, would do anything she 
said. 

“Yes,” Beppino thought, “I have made a 
mistake. I ought to have prayed to Mary. I’ve 
lost all this time.” 

That night a bank of black clouds arose in the 
west, just as the sun went down. The distant 
thunder rolled, and the flashes of lightning lit 
up the sky. Beppino was very much afraid in 
a thunderstorm, and he crept into the cave, 


56 


BEPPINO. 


going close to Assunta, in hopes that she might 
be a little kind to him. Assunta, however, 
whether affected by the storm which was so 
rapidly approaching or by the pangs of hunger 
— for they all began to suffer from lack of 
bread — was very cross. There came a bright 
flash of lightning and then a heavy roll of 
thunder, sounding like the echo of a great bat- 
tle. Beppino, in fear, timidly laid his hand on 
the woman’s coarse dress. She threw it off im- 
patiently. 

4 4 O, it’s you, is it? You expect me to coddle 
and pet you, who have brought us to this state! 
I tell you, I will have nothing more to do with 
you ! Eight years you’ve eaten our bread and 
shared our home, and it’s because of your steal- 
ing that violin of the Englishman that we’re 
here, far from Rome, with nothing to eat and 
the children starving! ” She stood up now and 
put her heavy hand on the terrified child’s 
shoulder. “Get out of here, I say! ” and she 
struck the poor child across the face. 

“ O, not to-night! ” he pleaded. “ It’s rain- 
ing, and I’m so afraid.” 

“Yes, to-night, baby.” She dragged him 
toward the door. 


THE CAVE IN THE HILLSIDE. 57 

“ And my violin ! Let me get my violin ! ” 

Beppino struggled to get up, but it was of no 
use. The strong hands held him. 

“Your violin! I guess not. It’s your mis- 
erable music that’s brought us here.” 

Assunta carried him to the bamboo wall and 
thrust him through it, out into the storm. 
“ Don’t you dare to come back ! ” she cried, and 
went to the children. 

Beppino, blinded by the storm, terrified by 
the lightning, wandered back and forth, and 
then, exhausted, sank down upon the side of the 
hill. He thought he was a long way off from 
that awful woman, but, in reality, he was very 
close to her, lying upon the slope at the side of 
the cave. The drought of four months was 
broken, and the rains had come to bring life 
and freshness to Rome. But they had come in 
fury. 

All night long the floods of rain fell, and they 
beat upon the little boy’s feeble body. In vain 
he tried to burrow in the earth and seek shelter 
under the bushes. The rain found him and 
soaked his light clothing until he was chilled 
and shivering. The thunder crashed, and the 
lightning, in blinding flashes of blue and red 


58 


BEPPINO. 


copper, shot over the sky. Beppino put a little 
hand up over his eyes to keep out the awful 
sight, and threw himself, face downward, on 
the wet ground. 

Ah ! Father in heaven, art thou looking down 
upon this poor, little homeless boy? 
















JOY IN THE MORNING. 


59 


CHAPTER VI. 

JOY IN THE MORNING. 

J3EPPINO sat up and looked about him. The 
storm had passed away, and the sky was 
as blue and the sunshine as golden as though it 
had never rained. Every bone in his body 
ached. Raising himself on his elbow, he peered 
over the side of the hill on which he lay. There 
was the cave where Assunta was with the chil- 
dren. There were the canes of bamboo which 
he and Giovanni and Rodolfo had planted on 
that day — so long ago, it seemed to his childish 
mind — when they came to this new home! 
What should he do? Anything to get away 
from this place and from the cruel woman who 
had so abused him. 

What did it matter if the police did catch him 
and take him to prison? Assunta could not 
follow him there. Full of his own thought, he 
prepared to run as fast as he could toward 
Rome when something unusual attracted his 
attention. 


60 


BEPPINO. 


The great quantity of water which had fallen 
in the night had washed down the hillside, car- 
rying with it large portions of earth. What 
caught Beppino’s eye was a hole in the ground 
on the slope of the mound, a little away from 
him. There was something in it. 

- I do wonder what it is! ” he said half 
aloud, and, entirely forgetting his fear of As- 
sunta and his danger while so near the cave, 
he dug around the object with his little brown 
fingers. 

In a few moments he had made the opening 
larger, and his eyes grew round as he looked 
down into it. He stooped and drew out a water- 
soaked and muddy violin. 

-It’s a funny place to put a violin,” mur- 
mured the little fellow, not suspecting how it 
had come there. He turned it over and over 
and rubbed off the mud. Suddenly he jumped 
up and his heart began to beat fast. 

-It’s the gentleman’s violin; the one he 
thought I stole ! ” he exclaimed. - There’s the 
mark which the young master showed me that 
tells how old it is. I’ve found it ! I’ve found 
it!” 

Then a thought came to him, and he did 


JOY IN THE MORNING. 61 

what the ungrateful lepers forgot to do when 
Jesus made them whole again, and what most 
of us forget to do each day we live. This poor, 
ignorant, homeless boy laid the precious violin 
down on the ground beside him, and, regardless 
of the family inside the cave, he knelt upon the 
wet ground and thanked God. 

“ Dear Father in heaven,” he prayed, “ thank 
you so much for letting me find the gentleman’s 
violin. And I promise you, dear Father in 
heaven, that after this I’ll always kneel down 
and ask you for everything I want without 
bothering about the Mother Mary.” 

Fortunately for him, everybody in the cave 
was sleeping soundly. Off in the distance Bep- 
pino could see the towers of Rome, with the 
great dome of St. Peter’s rising above them all, 
and he ran that way as swiftly as his lameness 
would let him, carrying the violin. His heart 
was light and happy because he could take Mr. 
Carroll’s violin back to him, and because those 
who had been so kind to him would know that 
he was not a thief. But who had stolen the 
violin, anyway? Surely not Rodolfo! The 
problem was too much for his little brain, 
and he gave it up. What difference who 


62 


BEPPINO. 


took the violin ? Here it was safe and 
sound. 

Giovanni had gone away from the cave the 
day before to see if he could find something for 
the family to eat in one of the small villages. 
As he was returning the thunderstorm came up, 
and he crept under a haycock for shelter, and 
had been very comfortable. He returned home 
about eight o’clock in the morning in high good 
humor, for he brought provisions enough for a 
week. In the cave all were still sleeping, but 
wakened on his entrance. 

“ Where’s Beppino?” he asked, looking 
around. 

Assunta hesitated. 

“ Mother put him out,” spoke up Rodolfo. 
‘ ‘ She hit him and told him not to come back any 
more, and it rained awful.” 

“ You ought to have known better,” he ex- 
claimed, in anger. “ That boy earns more with 
his music than all the rest of you put together. 
This affair of the violin would soon blow over. 
The English family is going away; it would 
soon be forgotten.” 

4 ‘ Rodolfo can learn to play the violin as well 
as that young one,” replied the woman. 


63 


JOY IN THE MORNING. 

“ You know well enough he hasn’t a grain of 
music in him. You’ve always hated the boy 
because he could play better than Rodolfo.” 

Assunta tossed her head. In her heart she 
knew that Giovanni was right. 

“Why don’t you tell him about the violin?” 
whispered Rodolfo, when Giovanni had gone 
outside. 

She gave him an angry look. Then she ran 
out quickly. A sudden fear had struck her. 
She rushed to the hole in the hillside. The 
violin she had buried there was gone ! 

“What is it, Assunta?” asked Giovanni, 
coming to her side. 

Wringing her hands, and between her sobs, 
Assunta told her husband all ; how, from jeal- 
ousy of Beppino, she had sent Rodolfo to steal 
the violin, knowing that the blame would natu- 
rally fall on Beppino, and how she had hidden 
it in the ground, not daring to take it to the 
pawnshop. 

Giovanni listened quietly. ‘ ‘ I suspected 
that it was something of this kind. Your fool- 
ish jealousy has made us an immense amount 
of trouble, Assunta, and has lost us a great deal 
of money, for the Englishman would have 


64 


BEPPINO. 


trained Beppino to be a great player, and our 
fortunes would have been made/' 

“ I should think you could catch the boy yet,” 
she said, with a glimmer of hope. “ He can’t 
get very far away.” 

“ Don’t you understand, Assunta, that he 
must have stayed nearby here all night? I be- 
lieve he found the violin. We shall have to 
hurry away, far away from Rome, now. It is 
not safe for us here another hour. And it is all 
your fault ! ” he exclaimed, angrily. 

In a few moments the whole family, ragged 
and sad, were walking toward the north, where 
they found a new home in the lonely moun- 
tains. 

Beppino ran wearily on toward the city. Past 
the shops outside the walls he went, and eyed 
hungrily the huge chunks of bread which were 
piled up in the windows of the bakeries. But 
he had no money to buy even a penny’s worth, 
and he was so very, very hungry! The violin, 
too, began to be heavy. He was so tired and 
he seemed to be strangely weak. Every once 
in a while there was a queer blackness around 
him, in spite of the brilliant sunshine. 

Beppino hurried under the Porta del Popolo 


JOY IN THE MORNING. 65 

and across the beautiful square where the an- 
cient obelisk stood and the fountains were play- 
ing. The palms upon the Pincian Hill were 
green and fresh looking after the grateful rain, 
but the boy did not notice any of these beauties. 
He felt strangely cold, even though it was a hot 
September day, and the blackness came oftener. 
It was only a few steps now; then he stood 
before the portiera once more. 

“Is the English gentleman at home?” he 
asked. 

She looked closely at him. 

“Why, you’re the little fellow who used to 
play the violin, aren’t you ? You are sick, aren’t 
you? ” 

He shook his head, impatiently. 

“Yes,” she continued, “the gentleman’s at 
home, but you’ve come just in time, for they’re 
all going to England to-morrow. The lady’s 
been worse, or they would have gone before. 
You are certainly ill ! ” she exclaimed, as Bep- 
pino leaned up against the wall. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I must see 
the gentleman. I’ve brought his violin back.” 
“ You don’t say! I’m glad. Then you didn’t 

steal it, after all? I never believed you did. 
5 


66 


BEPPINO. 


Now, look here; I’ll just send you up in the 
elevator. You can’t walk up all those stairs.” 

The good-hearted woman helped him to the 
elevator and watched it rise. 

“ Poveretto ! ” (“Poor little fellow!”) she 
murmured. 

Mr. and Mrs. Carroll and Robert were in the 
parlor when Francesco came in, with a smile on 
his face. 

“ Little Beppino wants to see you, sir,” he 
said. 

“ Beppino! ” exclaimed Robert, while his 
father said, “ Show him in here, Francesco.” 

Mr. Carroll’s anger all melted away when he 
saw the pitiful figure, with its drawn, white 
face, standing in the doorway. 

The child, walking with difficulty, crossed 
the room to Mr. Carroll. ‘ ‘ I’ve — I’ve brought 
your violin back, sir ; and, please, sir, I didn’t 
steal it,” he said, and then sank in a little heap 
on the soft carpet. 

There is a good deal more about little Bep- 
pino, but it would take too long to tell it 
now. 

He was very, very ill for several months, and 
the Carrolls did not go to England after all. 


JOY IN THE MORNING. 67 

They stayed in Rome that winter, and poor 
little Beppino never had been so happy, and 
never had imagined that anyone could be so 
happy, as he was during those cold months. His 
face grew round and rosy, and Giovanni, if he 
had met him on the street, would not have rec- 
ognized him. He often wondered what had 
become of his master and the children, for he 
loved his playmates, even though they had 
sometimes been unkind to him, but he never 
saw any of them again. 

At the Easter time, when the air was full of 
the sweetness of lilies and violets, the Carroll 
family went away, and little Beppino went with 
them, to be as their own son. 

Maybe, some day, you will hear “ Signor 
Giuseppe,” the famous violinist, play in a 
crowded concert hall, and you will hear him 
make wonderful music on that same old “ Stra- 
divarius,” which he rescued in such a strange 
way. In spite of the dampness and the dirt 
with which it was covered it is full of rich and 
harmonious melody. 

All through these years Beppino has learned 
to love and to trust more and more the dear 
Father in heaven and the Lord Jesus Christ. 


BEPPINO. 


He says that every time he plays on the old 
violin he prays to the Father that he may, 
through the music, bring to some person new 
hope and courage and more inspiration to be 
good and live right, just as God wishes them 
to do. 


The End. 








OCT 8 1901 


I 
















